


It all Comes Down to You

by IWriteSins_Not_Tragedies, Loki_Is_After_Your_Bones



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Disaster Jaskier | Dandelion, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Friends to Lovers, Himbo Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, How Do I Tag, Jaskier | Dandelion is Like a Disney Princess, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Size Queen, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Possible Canon Divergence?, Slow Burn, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, ish, unclear since not much of the show has been done yet and I have yet to read the books
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26162533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteSins_Not_Tragedies/pseuds/IWriteSins_Not_Tragedies, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_Is_After_Your_Bones/pseuds/Loki_Is_After_Your_Bones
Summary: After their terrible fight, Jaskier ends up near dead at the bottom of the mountain. He made up his mind during his time healing to never think of or see Geralt again...But destiny is never so kind.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 45
Kudos: 150





	1. All Alone Now

Jaskier's entire life up to this point had depended on one thing- doing what he enjoyed; what made him happy. Well, he surely wasn't very happy now. Geralt had left him here. Alone and bereft on the mountains, with nothing but his lute and his heart that seemed to sink lower and lower in his chest as he trudged on. With each new step, he found a new worry, a new pain. The only thing keeping him trudging along was the thought that maybe, just maybe, once he left this damned mountain behind, he could leave Geralt behind, too. He knew it was a longshot- an unlikely event to occur, given the circumstances of his heart and how it longed so desperately for love that it clung to the shattered fragments of it that were strewn about his life like the scattered feathers of a bird torn apart by wild animals.

Jaskier walked he felt as though his legs may give out under him. He sat on a rock to catch his breath... and that's when he heard it. The sound of a beast snarling and the ruffling of leaves and brush. He stood back up quickly, readying his lute in front of him as some sort of weapon. Honestly, he half expected Geralt to suddenly jump out and slay it, saving Jaskier in the nick of time as he always managed to do!

Unfortunately, Jaskier would not be so lucky. The creature towered over him and readied a strike, but Jaskier was not fast enough to ready one of his own. The monster slashed at him, creating a rather large gash in his stomach. He stumbled back a bit and his vision blurred. Before he knew it, he was tumbling backwards down the mountain. For a moment, all he could feel was pain. Sound was slowly dulling, until he could hear nothing, then feel nothing. His vision went dark before it all stopped.

When he woke back up, he was in a strange hut. He went to sit up, but groaned when he felt an immense pain in his abdomen. He looked down and saw bandages over his front. He vaguely remembered being slashed at by a monster and... rolling down the- how is he alive? He glanced over and saw a woman mixing herbs at a counter. She was rather pretty- blonde hair and... well, actually that's about all Jaskier could see.

"Excuse me, miss?" He called. His throat is weirdly sore. "Could you come here a moment?" Nor just so he could get a better look at her, but also just because he needs to find out where he is and how he got here. The woman seemed startled when he called to her. She looked over and immediately came to his side.  
"Are you alright? You had a nasty fall. Is your head hurt? What do you remember?"  
"Well... I remember... get struck by some beast, then falling, and-"  
"No, I mean before that. Your life."  
"Oh, right." He chuckled softly and thought back, before letting out a sigh.  
"... I wish I didn't." He could still remember Geralt's harsh words- the way they stung him and broke him down to his very core. The angry, fiery look in his eyes that he usually only reserved for monsters or the assholes that treated him like one. The woman giggled, not sending Jaskier's inner turmoil.  
"Did you not have fun?"  
"I wouldn't call it fun, so I'd say no." He muttered softly.  
"If you still feel tired, you may rest whenever you like. I'll continue to take care of you until you're all better. Then, you may be off on your way, young bard!"  
"... Bard? How did you know I was a bard?"  
"... Are you blind, or just stupid?" She giggled and pointed. "Your lute. I laid it over on that chair in the corner for safe keeping. It's a wonder it didn't break during your fall!"  
"Yes... a wonder." Not really, though. It had been Filavandrel's lute, after all. It must have been endowed with magical properties or something to that affect.  
"Well, I'm glad you're doing alright... um-"  
"Jaskier. My name is Jaskier."  
"Good to meet you Jaskier, I'm-... wait, what? Jaskier? As in the Jaskier? The one who wrote the tales of-"  
"Yes. That Jaskier."  
"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, sir! An honor, truly! I'm a big fan of your work!" Jaskier chuckled softly at her comment.  
"Well, I'm certainly glad you enjoyed. Does my biggest fan have a name, perhaps?"  
"Małomira." She curtailed and allowed herself to giggle softly afterwards.  
"A very beautiful name for an equally beautiful woman." Jaskier remarked flirtatiously. Even in pain, he can still manage a pickup line or two. Małomira blushed softly and suddenly found herself able to look anywhere but into his eyes.  
"A-are you always this much of a flirt?" She stuttered awkwardly.  
"Mh... sometimes... but you seem special." He gave her a wink and she nearly melted.  
"W-well, I best collect some more herbs!" She left quickly, leaving Jaskier to chuckle to himself.

About a month later, Jaskier's wound was healed enough that he could finally get up and move around, meaning that it was time to set out on his own once more.  
"Will I ever see you again?" Małomira asked solemnly. Jaskier sighed and bent down to kiss her hand  
"Just as the trees in the winter and destined to grow more leaves in the summer, we are destined to meet again, my sweet." And, with those words, the bard withdrew, leaving the woman at her doorstep, likely to never truly see her again. Still, he sort of hoped to. She had been sweet and kind, nothing like Geralt- why would he be thinking about Geralt in relation to a romantic relationship with a woman? That doesn't make very much sense. He shrugged off the thought and continued merrily on his way, trying to create a new song for the sake of fame, fortune and fun! The only reasons he does anything. He prayed to whatever gods may exist to never meet Geralt again, but destiny is a cruel bitch of a mistress. He knows he won't be so lucky.

After many, many hours of walking, practicing, strumming and singing, he came across a town with a lovely little inn he could stay in. He strolled through the open doors and up to the bar keep, asking if he could play for his room and give whatever money he was tipped towards his room. The bar keep shrugged and allowed this request, so Jaskier went up to the makeshift stage and started off with a nice drinking song, which set the excited and fun mood for the rest of the evening. Jaskier swayed and danced about on stage excitedly as people cheered loudly and talked. By the end he was sweating and grinning ear to ear ad he handed the bar keep the money he had made. The man began grinning as well at the sight of the coin. He took it, patted Jaskier's shoulder, and handed him a key for one of the nicer rooms. Pleased with his work and the room he had been given, he walked with a little extra swagger in his step as he headed up and off to bed, dreaming lazily of scantily clad women and all the wine he could drink.


	2. A Losing Battle

It had been months since 'The Incident', as he now calls it. Since then, his tales of adventure had been mostly funny, raunchy stories about all the trouble he got into sleeping with noblewoman. Apparently, stories of his own scars and fails and triumphs were nearly as popular as those he told of Geralt!

... Nearly.

People would often ask him to play the songs about him, but once he started he always trailed off, gaining a solemn look in his eyes that made the performance far less interesting. Sometimes, when traveling alone, he would forget himself in his writings and turn over his shoulder to ask the non-existant silver-haired man what he thought of the lyrics he had just written. Of course, it's not like Geralt would have answered even if he had been there, but it was still much more silent without him. He found himself filling this silence by speaking to himself about his own life and pretending it was companionship. Sure, it was a lonely last-ditch resort for some sort of sound to break the solemn silence of the dark thoughts that crept up on him from the shadows, but it worked and he was happy for a time! But, of course, happiness is fleeting.

One unlucky night, as he was about to turn in for the night in a room at yet another Inn he happened to be staying at, he heard a gruff voice from across the room.  
"Two beds, a loaf of bread, and an ale." The sound of a bag of coins being dropped on the counter seemed to thunder in Jaskier's ears with how carefully he had been listening. He glanced over- silver hair peaking from under a cloak... but why two beds? He had only ever asked for two when-... there's a child with him. A child! His child surprise, no doubt! Oh, destiny, you wonderous mistress! How you have blessed those two! Cirilla and Geralt finally meeting is truly a momentous occasion! Why, he ought to go congratulate them-... oh. Right. Jaskier's happiness seemed to be suddenly whisked away in an instant. That's right. Geralt didn't want anything to do with him anymore. He sighed heavily and continued on to his room.

He closed the door and locked it before flopping onto the bed he purchased. It was soft. A good bed to have a good row with your own emotions in. He fought with himself over seeing Geralt again- over going to momentarily congratulate him before letting their paths diverge once more. He knew it would only bring himself more heartache. Why do that for the sake of the man that almost got him killed by leaving him alone on that gods forsaken mountain do be mauled by monsters? Seems a bit like rude actions should be payed forward similarly, even if Geralt wasn't even aware that Jaskier was being rude to him-... there was a knock at the door. For a moment, Jaskier entertained the thought that it might be Geralt, but that was a truly ridiculous notion. Why would he be at this door? He purchased his own room, didn't he? Letting out a heavy sigh, Jaskier pried himself from the bed and answered the door. Standing there, ruggedly handsome as always, was Geralt. In all his glory. He had a few new scars on him. One on his cheek and another on his forehead. He had also let his beard grow out a bit more. Other than that, his appearance hadn't changed much. The pair stood there staring at each other for a good while which made Ciri rather confused. Jaskier swallowed thickly and opened his mouth, but Geralt was the first to speak.

"I think I have the wrong room." He grumbled. And oh, the way his voice rumbled in Jaskier's ears, to the point where all he wanted to do was drop to his knees and beg Geralt to take him back, to let him come along once more despite how much of a nuisance he can be. Sadly, rather than doing that, he simply replied,

"It would seem that way, yes..." Jaskier expected Geralt to leave after that- to leave him forever cursed with the regret over saying nothing. Geralt stayed, though. He continued staring until Ciri pulled on his sleeve and snapped him out of it. She tugged him to the room beside Jaskier's and they dissapeared into it.

Jaskier closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and finally let the door close again, locking him in with his emotions once more. He sat down on the floor, trying to calm his turbulent sea of emotions. He wanted Geralt back. He wanted to SAY so, but he couldn't. He was too proud. Too HURT. For a fleeting moment, he hoped Geralt would return and ask the poor bard if he would like to tag along... but Geralt had never done that before. He won't do it now. Jaskier thought he had been getting stronger without Geralt and was able to move on from the pain the amber-eyed man had caused, but that didn't hold true now. In fact, it seemed almost as if he'd gotten worse about it- as though he could hardly keep his emotions in check anymore. Not that he was particularly good at it before, mind you, but still. He discovered then, much to his dismay, that his strength had been a lie. A lie he told to himself over and over again, hoping it would eventually prove true... but really he was just hiding from himself for fear of being hurt again. He didn't even realise he had started crying until a teardrop landed upon the ground. He sighed in frustration and decided that perhaps, for the moment, he could resign himself fully to his emotions and feel them. He prayed that it may heal him, but it was a shot in the dark. He eventually dragged himself back to bed, but he didn't sleep. How could he, when all he saw when he closed his eyes was the Witcher's face? So stoic and steadfast, and yet... and yet he had seemed slightly alarmed to see Jaskier when he opened the door. And why had he knocked on the door he suspected to be his own, anyway? That didn't make a lot of sense, even for Geralt! Who, in his own way, could be a rather nonsensical fellow. Jaskier cursed himself for continuing to think of him. So, he resigned himself to a sleepless night, where he tried to do anything but think of Geralt.


	3. New Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It had been brought to my attention that this story looked like it was complete and I'm VERY sorry about that. This is my first time using this to publish fanfiction, so I haven't gotten the hang of it yet. This issue has since been resolved, but I want to also take this time to thank everyone who's commented or interacted with this at all! I honestly thought it would take a lot longer for anyone to realise this fanfic existed, so I'm happy that people are already interacting and enjoying it! Thank you!

"Two beds, a loaf of bread, and an ale." Geralt muttered gruffly. He tossed the bag of coins on the table. Amidst the commotion of the inn and all the noise, Geralt picked up on a heartbeat. It was quicker than the rest. Close by. He turned just as the person had turned and headed up the stairs to their room. He recognized the scent of pinewood and lavender. He recognized the hair, the clothes, the walk.  
"... Jaskier?" He muttered quizzically to himself, though he was unaware he had said the bard's name aloud. He only was aware when Cirilla asked,  
"Who's Jaskier?" And Geralt nearly froze. He looked to her, then away, his lips suddenly feeling dry.  
"No one." He went to the stairs with his door key ready in his hand. He saw the room number... but he smelled Jaskier's scent from behind the door just beside it to it. He _knows_ which room he should go into... and he knocked on Jaskier's door instead. He immediately regretted it. Why did he do that? What does he have to gain- it's opening. _Shit_. Geralt was immediately hit with a wave of guilt. Jaskier seemed _sad_ and _hurt_. Why does Jaskier seem sad? He was almost _never_ sad. Even when... what's-her-name left him. He couldn't tear his eyes off Jaskier, so he had to say _something_.  
"I think I have the wrong room." Geralt muttered after a moment. He saw many different emotions change in Jaskier before the bard finally responded.  
"It would seem that way, yes..." Yet, even after their conversation ended, even _after_ he should have left, Geralt continued to stand there and stare until Ciri dragged him off to the room they were supposed to be in.

"What was that all about?" She asked when they were in the room. Geralt didn't have an answer for her, so he simply grunted and went to put up their bags.  
"Was that Jaskier?" She tried again with a different question.  
"... Yes... it was..."  
"... So he's an old friend, then?"  
"Something like that."  
Ciri seemed contemplative for a moment.  
"... He's pretty... do you miss him?"  
"Must you always ask so many questions?" Geralt snapped as he dropped a bag on the table. Cirilla sighed softly and went to sit on the other bed.  
"... Can I ask one more?" She asked. Geralt grunted, but then sighed.  
"Fine. _One_ more."  
"... Why did he look so sad?" After that, Geralt was silent. He was too busy thinking. A dangerous thing for a man like him to do, yes... but he couldn't know why Jaskier was sad. He didn't even understand his _own_ emotions. How was he meant to understand someone else's? Let alone a _bard's_ \- those with so many emotions swirling through them all the time all at once!... Yet, Geralt knew. He was well aware and he felt strangely hurt by his understanding. Jaskier wanted to be happy for him, to share in the joy of having found Cirilla, his child surprise... and yet he couldn't. And it was all Geralt's fault for pushing him away.  
Geralt shook the thought from his head.  
"Just... rest, Ciri... we head off again in the morning." Ciri sighed at his response.  
"Fine..." She crawled under the covers and stared at the opposite wall. Geralt went and sat on the other bed. Now, where he doesn't sleep, he _does_ meditate, and it's far nicer to meditate on a soft bed than on hard floor (so Ciri had pointed out their first night staying at an inn). So, Geralt now asks for two beds when he rents a room as opposed to the one. It's mostly to keep Ciri quiet about 'taking better care of himself' (honestly, she really does sound like Jaskier sometimes), but also because -and he would never admit this- she's right. It's _far_ more comfortable this way, and he'll take what little amounts of comfort he can afford.

In the morning, Geralt was determined to set off again before Jaskier did. The idea of seeing his face again irked him for some reason. So, as soon as he finished meditating and Ciri woke up, he began packing up all of their belongings as quickly as possible. Of course, even that didn't help, for as soon as he descended the stairs into the main area of the inn, who did he hear singing but that _stupid_ bard? For a but a moment, Geralt thought that perhaps he could sit there and listen forever without another care in the world other than keeping that voice with him. The thought itself shocked Geralt so much that he nearly thought about running away from it. Which... he sort of did. He grabbed Ciri's tiny wrist and began dragging her out of the inn while she stared on at Jaskier.

"He looked like he was having fun." She remarked once they were outside.  
"What?" Geralt nearly growled back as he started packing the bags back onto Roach.  
"Jaskier. He seemed to be enjoying himself." She looked back. "He has a lovely voice." Geralt nearly chuckled at the remark.  
"Only if you've heard it once. He hardly ever shuts up. It's annoying as shit."  
"... Then how were you ever friends if he annoyed you so much?" Ciri asked whil Geralt hopped up onto Roach. He grunted softly in response.  
"Just get on the horse." Ciri shrugged and did as was asked of her. Once Geralt was sure she was fully on Roach, he set off. They had been moving for not even two minutes before Ciri started up another conversation.  
"Do you think we'll ever see him again?" Ciri asked as she rummaged through one of the bags beside her for a snack.  
"See who again?" Geralt had already started trying to forget him again.  
"Jaskier, you dalcop."  
"Watch it, Cirilla. I _will_ make you walk." He warned. "... But, to answer your question- no. With any luck, we won't even hear his name again."  
But destiny is rarely ever so kind.


	4. Reconciliation

Five months. Five months of trying to avoid each other, yet constantly crossing paths. Geralt doesn't understand why he feels the way he does everytime he sees the bard again. He doesn't even understand what the feeling _is_. He just knows it's there...

Jaskier feels a similar way, but he knows what the feeling is- regret. Remorse. And _longing._ A deep, deep longing for something so far gone that he can never get back. Over half a year had gone by, yet his sleepless nights were still plagued by glowing amber eyes and devilish, toothy smiles. Even now he felt the blood rising to his face every time he thought of Geralt... and those those were interrupted by a sudden 'thud' before he body hit the ground. He slowly looked up at whoever he had bumped into, preparing to apologize-  
".... Geralt?" He was with Ciri still. Good. He hadn't seen her the last time their paths crossed. He had gotten worried.  
"... Jaskier." Geralt grunted. His voice contained even less emotion than Jaskier was used to, causing his heart to sink in his chest. That is, until Geralt reached his hand out to help the bard up. Jaskier stared at him confused, but he knew Geralt wouldn't explain his sudden action (he's not much for explaining _anything_ ), so he gingerly took his hand and allowed himself to be pulled up. Upon standing, he expected for Geralt to immediately retract his hand as if burned, but Jaskier was surprised _again_ by Geralt keeping a firm grip on him. Jaskier laughed awkwardly at the proximity and... the _everything_ that was going on. He slowly met Geralt's gaze, and was stricken with panic at how unusually intense it was. Sure, Geralt was always intense, but this was more than Jaskier had ever seen from him, which was shocking in and of itself. Jaskier opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.  
"Come get a drink with me." It was stated more as a demand rather than a question, which had Jaskier wondering if he even had a choice, especially as Geralt's grip tightened uncomfortably on him. Jaskier had to remind himself that Geralt was generally unaware of his own strength with humans, so he elected to be quiet about the discomfort.  
"I... guess... I guess I could... take a moment for a drink..." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly with his free hand.  
"Good." Geralt released Jaskier immediately after he got his answer and turned away from him, heading towards the bar with Ciri in tow. She glanced back at Jaskier for only a moment, then faced back ahead of her.

Jaskier quickened his pace and ended up at the door to the bar just as Geralt pushed the door open and entered. Jaskier followed him to a table in the back of the room, reminding Jaskier quite a bit of the first time they met. Geralt pulled Ciri to him and told her something that Jaskier couldn't hear over the din of the bar, but whatever it was had Ciri scampering off somewhat quickly. Jaskier tried to think of something to say, but found no words that came to him. So, the pair sat in silence for a while. A thick, heavy, tentative silence that could be sliced clean through with Geralt's sword. Geralt was the first to make conversation.  
"... Come with me." Yet another demand, though Jaskier couldn't find it in himself to be upset.  
"I... I beg your-" Jaskier didn't even get to finish before Geralt started again.  
"I was foolish... and wrong. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. The situation was beyond your control. I never wanted you to leave... I was just angry, and I've been angry with you before, and you've always returned. It thought this would be the same. None of that excuses my actions, I know, but... I hope you can forgive me nonetheless." Geralt stared down at his drink with that same intensity as before. All of those words were his, though he didn't find them on his own. Ciri helped. He had explained small details about Jaskier and the few emotions toward him that he could comprehend until Ciri got the fist and helped him work out something to say. Of course, Ciri was more articulate (hence why he had to force the words out of himself), but still. The point got across... but he was nervous with how silent Jaskier was. Slowly, he glanced over at the bard to see him staring wide eyed, mouth agape, in total shock.  
"G... Geralt, you... holy shit." He laughed in disbelief and shook his head.  
"I know... I understand-" Geralt went to stand up, but Jaskier put a firm hand on his forearm, effectively keeping Geralt at the table.  
"Did you _honestly_ think I stayed away because I was angry with you?" It was Geralt's turn to be shocked now.  
"That's... not why you were avoiding me?"  
"Of course not, you idiot! I thought you _hated_ me! I thought you didn't want me around!"  
"Oh... why didn't you say something?" Geralt gave him a quizzical look that had Jaskier realing from laughter.  
"Geralt, if someone you hated approached you, what would you do?" Geralt took a pause.  
"... Okay, fair point." Jaskier chuckled softly at his response and sipped at his ale.  
" _Wow_ , that was... _so_ much easier than I thought it would be."  
"... What do you mean by that?"  
"Well, I... I kind of expected to have to win you over somehow by offering to make you more money, or... something." Jaskier shrugged, and Geralt chuckled in response.  
"That won't be necessary, bard." Those words held unspoken meaning to Jaskier. Hell, to _both_ of them! It was a quiet, unnoticeable admission that Geralt wanted Jaskier around solely for the bard's company and nothing more. Jaskier couldn't help but feel butterflies in his stomach as he basked in the feeling of being wanted.  
"Well... when do you head out again?" Jaskier questioned. It was crazy to him how suddenly he felt comfortable around Geralt again. It was refreshing. Nice.  
"Mh... a couple days. There's been rumors of some sort of beast hulled up in a cave somewhere that I need to go deal with."  
"Well, lucky you! You won't have to start asking for more beds just yet." Geralt rolled his eyes at the comment.  
"I had nearly forgotten. Perhaps I shouldn't let you tag along after all." Jaskier put a hand over his chest in feign offense.  
"Rude, Geralt. Very rude." He chuckled softly, and could have _sworn_ he saw just the peak of a smile twitch at Geralt's lips...


	5. Idiot

"So... how'd you get that one?" Jaskier asked, pointing to a semi-new scar on Geralt's left shoulder. Jaskier forced Geralt to bathe since he was 'stinking up the whole camp with the smell of rotting flesh'. "I've never seen that one before." Geralt shifted in the water.

"Mh... griffin. A few months back." Geralt shrugged, as though that fully explained the situation and was definitely the answer Jaskier was hoping for. Jaskier groaned, and Geralt could have laughed at Jaskier’s discontent.

"... Riveting, Geralt. You must be great fun at parties." Jaskier mocked. Geralt always spared the details unless Jaskier dug for them. It almost seemed like the witcher was toying with him sometimes.

"You know I hate parties." Geralt grunted as he slipped further into the warm water. Jaskier rolled his eyes.

"Tell me the whole story, Geralt. Spare no detail, oh mighty witcher." Jaskier mocked, thinking that he should be able to mess with Geralt if Geralt was so keen on messing with him.

"Mh... fine. I was fighting a pride of griffins a few months ago. One of them got the drop on me while I was focused on the other four and tried to carry me off. Hell, she would have if I hadn't sliced her claw off." He gestured to the three marks on his front and the single one on his back from where the griffin's talons had scratched him. Jaskier stared a moment, honestly surprised he had survived, despite how resilient he knows the Witcher to be. It’s clear that Jaskier loves Geralt’s scars, but it’s not just because of all the stories they hold, but also because they show that he lives, regardless of what the world tries to do about it, Geralt will always survive.

"... Wow. That is a daring escape indeed." Jaskier grabbed his notebook and wrote some things down before turning back to Geralt. "Lean your head forward a bit, Geralt." He waved his hands forward- a gesture to lean that went unseen by Geralt.

Geralt let out a soft grunt and did as was asked of him. Moments later, a bucket of warm water was dumped over his head. Jaskier lathered up some soap in his hands before scrubbing it into Geralt's hair and scalp. Having done this a few times before, he’s not too bad at it. Geralt's muscles relaxed, and he reclined even further into the water. A feeling of pride swelled within Jaskier, as he realised that he was likely the only one who could get Geralt to relax even slightly in their presence... well, since Yennefer, that is. It was a good feeling, and it really stroked his ego... and a certain extremity of his. Can you blame him? Geralt's groans of pleasure as Jaskier massaged his scalp were so deep and hot and-

"Jaskier, please refrain from thinking about bathing naked women while you wash me. The scent of your arousal is unsettling." Geralt's words snapped Jaskier out of his trance and caused his face to heat up immensely.

"I-I was thinking of no such thing!" He retorted, causing Geralt to chuckle slightly.

"I'm sure you weren't. If I get out of this tub and you have a hard-on, I'm going to throw you in a lake." Jaskier made a disgruntled noise at Geralt's comment, but said nothing more and simply continued washing him. Once finished, he took a step back and wiped the sweat that had accumulated on his brow. He’s just going to ignore those strange thoughts he had for now and try not to worry too much about what they might mean. Instead, he went and grabbed some clean clothes for Geralt, then laid them beside the tub.

”You know, you should probably start paying me for this. No one else will. I’m not a bathmaid.”

Geralt let out a short laugh as he stood. Jaskier wasn’t unused to seeing the man’s bare ass (he massaged it once), but this felt different somehow. Was it because of his thoughts from earlier?

”You’re right, Jaskier. You’re not a bathmaid.” Geralt muttered as he pulled his pants up. Jaskier was surprised. Geralt hardly ever agreed with him on anything, even things like the little joke he just told.

”Oh... well, thank y-“

”Bathmaids are pretty.” Geralt chuckled as he fastened his belt. Jaskier gasped, feigning offense.

”How dare you, Geralt! I’ll have you know that there are many who find me incredibly alluring!”

”Oh? And are they blind?” Geralt smirked back at him and, fuck, the way Jaskier’s stomach backflipped- he should excuse himself quickly.

”Whatever. I-I’m going to go pack up.” He briskly left the bathhouse. What the actual hell is wrong with him? He can’t have thoughts like this! Geralt’s his friend! And a man!... Though, should that really matter? He’s had sex with monsters before, so what’s his problem with men if he’s been with literal beasts? Men can’t be as much different from women as a werewolf is, right?... These are very complex thoughts.

Meanwhile, Geralt was left reasonably confused by the bard’s reaction. Had Jaskier been offended by him saying he wasn’t pretty?... No, that’s insane, right? Then again, he doesn’t know much about how people act or how their emotions work. He decided to just ignore that for the time being and get dressed so he could go ahead and grab Ciri from their temporary room. He headed out of the bathhouse and up to the room.

”Ciri? Time to get going.” Ciri glanced back at him when she heard his voice and nodded. She gathered up what little was still in the room and followed Geralt back down to Jaskier and Roach.

”Ready to go again, Jaskier?” The bard shrugged at Geralt’s question.

”Don’t have much option. It’s a good workout, anyway. Plus, anywhere you go is certain to be chock full of stories, old friend.” Geralt rolled his eyes and hopped up on Roach. He helped Ciri up behind him before setting off at a slow pace. Since it was likely to be a while before they found another town, Jaskier played his lute quietly as they went, trying to figure out what to write for his next ballad.


	6. Wounded

If he had known this would happen, he would have told Geralt not to take on the job. It had seemed dangerous when it was first described to him, but now he’s realizing that it was basically a suicide mission. Even Geralt can’t take on that many ghouls at once. He should have known, but he didn’t, so now Jaskier has to dress Geralt’s wounds since Geralt is too weak to do it himself. His chest is rising and falling with slow, shallow breaths. Jaskier sent Ciri into the woods a few moments ago to look for medicinal herbs. He wishes she would get back quicker. He could use her help, for both his sake and Geralt’s. He turned to stare at the door for a while, only turning back when he heard Geralt groan. He saw Geralt sweating profusely and grabbed the cold rag he had set aside and dabbed it over his face, trying not to wake him so he wouldn’t move too much and hurt himself like the idiot he is. Though, he must have been doing it too much or something, because Geralt opened his eyes slightly. He squinted up at the bard, trying to focus and find out where he was and if he was in danger.

”Ger? Shit, sorry. D-did I wake you?” Jaskier pulled the rag away from his face quickly. That voice... Geralt recognized that voice. It’s Jaskier, he realised. Jaskier is here.

”... Jask’er?” He questioned weakly, his words slurring slightly. “Is... ‘s you... right?”

”Yeah. Yeah, it’s me. How are you feeling? D-does it hurt still? I managed to bandage most of your wounds.” Jaskier moved the cloth and his hand away.

“Jaskier...” Geralt said his name as though it was a form of relief- a sign of solace. “... How did you find me? How... how did you get me back?”

”Never you mind that, Geralt... just rest.” Jaskier placed his hand on Geralt’s arm as he tried to stand.

”Rest? No... I don’t need rest.” Jaskier sighed in response to Geralt’s stubbornness.

”Geralt,” He began, “you lost a _lot_ of blood. Moving around right now wouldn’t be a good idea. You would likely pass out as soon as you stood.” Geralt groaned in frustration.

”A-and how would you know, _bard_.” He said it as though it were an insult, though Geralt didn’t mean it as one. Jaskier, on the other hand, had been referred to in such a way a few too many times for him not to see it as Geralt poking fun at his chosen profession. Still, he couldn’t argue with him about it now. Not when Geralt wasn’t thinking properly to begin with.

”From experience, Geralt. You’re not the only one who gets into fights.” He huffed and leaned back as he crosses his arms. Geralt paused a moment, seemingly trying to gauge if the bard was telling the truth or not.

”... When would you have gotten in a fight that led you to lose that much blood?” Geralt questioned as he attempted to move himself into an inclined position, but Jaskier put his hand back on the Witcher’s arm to hold him in place.

”Do you honestly want to know, or are you just asking?”

“What do you mean?”

”Ha! Like you don’t know. How many times have you asked my opinion on something and then immediately moved on to ignore me, hm?”

”... Oh.” Geralt sighed. “Well, yes. I would like to know.”

”Aww! Is big, strong, “unfeeling” Witcher man worried about little old me?” Jaskier batted his eyelashes at him playfully. Geralt rolled his eyes.

”It’s less about worry and more about curiosity regarding the extent of your stupidity...” Geralt grumbled tiredly.

”You still implied that you worry about me! I take this as a wi-“

”Just get on with it before I change my mind.”

”Oh, fine. You’re no fun.” He stuck his tongue out at Geralt. “Anyway, I guess it’s important to know that it was less of a _fight_ and more of a capture-“

”You were kidnapped?”

“Well, yes-“

”When?”

”Well, it was _way_ before my time with you, if that’s what your wondering.”

”Mh, good. I was worried I hadn’t noticed.”

”You’ve only ever not noticed _once_ and I forgave you, remember?”

”You haven’t told the story yet, Jaskier.” Geralt chuckled softly.

”Oh, right. Anyway, yes. I was kidnapped. Now, as you know, whenever this happens it’s _usually_ just some angry husband whose wife I seduced, _or_ just someone I wronged (usually financially). This time was now different, and it was the former- apparently, I left him wondering who’s kid she was having, even though I explained to him _countless_ times that I had pulled out. Apparently, he wasn’t having any of that business, so he stabbed me. Repeatedly.”

”... Where?”

”Stomach. Easiest vantage-“

”You should be dead.”

”Correct you are! Except, the guy happened to have angered some pixies-“

”Pixies, Jaskier? You expect _anyone_ to believe that?”

”Well, yes! Of course I do! It actually happened!”

”There’s _no_ way-“

”Oh, will you just hush and let me finish my story?” Jaskier huffed. Geralt let out a bit of a grunt.

”... _Fine_.”

”Good. Thank you. Anyway, it turns out that he had pissed off some pixies somehow. Something about him being impolite? I couldn’t really understand, what with all the bleeding out I was doing. After they, uh... well, I think they drowned him, because I found his body in the water later on, but after they did that they came and untied me. I think it was because he didn’t like me, so they just figured that an enemy of their enemy must be a friend or something like that. Anyway, I tried to stand after they untied me and _immediately_ passed out. When I came to, I was outside an inn and my wounds had _completely_ healed. I wanted to thank them, but they were gone.” Jaskier shrugged. He sat there for a moment, waiting for a response from Geralt, but nothing came. “Geralt were you even-“ He was interrupted by a loud snore. “... He’s... _sleeping_.” Geralt almost _never_ sleeps. Had he really bored him that much? Jaskier sighed.

”Oh, well...” He got up from his seat just as Ciri came in with the herbs. “Ah, you’re back. Good. Let’s get to mixing these. He took them from her and went over to Geralt’s potion instruction book-... it’s practically illegible. Jaskier groaned.

”Well... guess we’ve got our work cut out for us.”


	7. Getting Better

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The buildup may be slow, but Jaskier and Geralt are /slowly/ beginning to have more and more gay thoughts. When will they reach their peak? And what will happen when they do?

Geralt’s eyes shot up in bed and glanced at his surroundings, quickly trying to gauge the situation before acting. Slowly, it settled upon him that he had been dreaming. A dream. A  _ dream  _ made him feel this way. He groaned to himself and place his head in his hands, feeling lucky that no one seemed to be there at the moment. He looked down at his stomach, seeing that he was fully bandaged. He shifted and found that little pain came from the movement. For a clumsy oaf, Jaskier was surprisingly good at taking care of wounds. Absently, he wondered if Jaskier would be good at taking care of his own injuries. He wondered how Jaskier may have faired with-... with all those ghouls... Fuck, he’s feeling guilty for letting him come with again. That feeling always seems to come upon him at the most random times. Letting out a breath, he slowly pushed himself from the bed to see if there was anything to eat. He’s not usually hungry, so the fact that he was feeling the urge to seek out food tipped him off to how bad off he had been. Suddenly, that guilt at having Jaskier around turned to relief. If it weren’t for Jaskier, he would likely be dead right now. Besides, it’s not like Geralt can’t protect him properly. He’s plenty capable with his swords. Getting hurt that badly was just a fluke due to the sheer amount of ghouls that had congregated in such a small area.

Once Geralt had made it to the counter, he began sifting through his and Jaskier’s bags- ah. There. Plain bread. He sat himself down in a chair and ate the small loaf. He had almost finished when Jaskier and Ciri walked in.

“Finally ba- where’s Geralt!?” Jaskier started panicking. Ciri glanced around and saw Geralt sitting in the chair behind the door.

”Um... Jaskier-“

”I  _ knew _ leaving him here alone was a bad idea! What if someone kidnapped him!?”

”Jaskier-“

”What if they’re about to kill him!? It’s not unreasonable to think of! People in this town are racist and-“

”Jaskier!” She pointed at Geralt. Jaskier turned slowly and saw Geralt sitting calmly with a mostly eaten loaf of bread.

”I’m not one for getting kidnapped, Jaskier. That’s more of a you thing.” He chuckled softly.

”Geralt! You’re okay!” He grinned. “Now,  _ never  _ scare me like that! You’ve given me enough heart attacks lately, I think!”

”Aw. We’re you worried for me, bard?” Geralt teased, using Jaskier’s joke against him. Of course, it didn’t work that way for Jaskier, who is emotionally available rather than emotionally constipated.

”Of  _ course  _ I was, Geralt! You were near death not too long ago, you know!” Jaskier huffed and put his hands on his hips like a disappointed parent. Geralt... hadn’t expected that. Though, in hindsight, he probably should have, what with how Jaskier is.

”Oh... right.” Geralt shrugged and finished off his bread while Ciri rolled her eyes at the pair’s antics.

”So, I take it we don’t need these herbs, then?” She looked up at Jaskier with her basket full of herbs. Jaskier sighed.

”Well... not for the moment, but we can preserve them to use for later. Come on, I’ll teach you how.” He started leading Ciri back outside.

”... You know how to do that?” Geralt is surprised.  _ He _ doesn’t even know how to do that, and it seems like a pretty necessary skill,  _ especially  _ for a Witcher. Jaskier chuckled at Geralt’s dumbfoundedness.

”Yes, Geralt. I learned all about the preservation of herbs in school. It’s one of the few sciences they understood there.”

”Oh... I see...” Geralt picked at a scratch on the table. He sort of wishes that-

“Would you like to come learn as well? If you’re up for it, that is.” Jaskier smiled at him. Huh. Yeah, that. He had wished for that.

”... I guess. Besides, someone has to make sure you stay safe.”

”Geralt, Cirilla is  _ perfectly _ capable of being on her-“

”No, not her. I know she can hold her own. It’s  _ you  _ I’m worried about.” He chuckled quietly as he got up and grabbed one of his swords.

”Wha- Geralt! I’m a grown man!” Jaskier retorted. He pretends to be offended, but he honestly just says things like that because he wants to hear Geralt say he worries for him again. It makes him feel whole.

”Yes. You are. You’re a grown man who has no defense training or weapon to speak of.” Geralt placed the sword on his back and headed out the door.

”Oh, we're not finished yet!” Jaskier came shouting after him. Ciri giggled as she walked behind him.

”Seems like you are.” She patted Jaskier’s back, and Geralt couldn’t help but smirk to himself in satisfaction.

Jaskier wandered around in the woods for a while, always seeming as though he was doing so aimlessly before stooping down and picking some herbs or grabbing a twig or gathering water or what have you. Once he had enough, he found a flat, even spot to set everything out on and layer out several jars of different sizes. Once he had everything laid out, he began explaining how to preserve the different herbs.

”What about those?” Geralt asked, pointing to the ones Jaskier hadn’t used yet.

”Oh, these? Well, these can only be preserved if they’re dried. Otherwise, they won’t work how they’re supposed to anymore.”

”Mh. Okay.” Geralt nodded in understanding. Jaskier felt a sense of pride at the fact that he had actually managed to capture his Witcher’s-...  _ the  _ Witcher’s attention. Gods, that’s not fun. It always comes upon him so suddenly, too. That idea that Geralt belongs to him... that he belongs to Geralt. Wow.  _ Belonging  _ to Geralt...  _ belonging  _ somewhere. In his arms. With him. By his side, forever, finally more than just-

“Jaskier? Hey, Jask, snap out of it.” He snapped in front of Jaskier’s face, breaking him from his trance.

”Oh, sorry, I was just-... what did you call me?”

“... Jaskier?”

”No, no,  _ after  _ that.”

”... Jask?” Geralt cocked an eyebrow at him. “Are you okay?”

”Well, yes! Fine, it’s just... well, you’ve never used that nickname with me before.” If Geralt weren’t so smart and good at understanding changes in facial expression/complexion, he would have  _ sworn  _ that he saw Jaskier blushing.

”Have I not? Could have sworn I had... Mh. Oh well.” He shrugged. “Is that all?”

”Hm? Oh, um, yes. That’s it. Just need to find a place to dry these herbs...” He muttered.

”Just... lay them out in the sun?”

“Well, obviously. I just don’t know where to leave them that I’ll remember them.”

”Ah...” Geralt scanned the surrounding area. “Just leave them on that rock. I’ll remember where they are, so we can grab them whenever we leave.”

”Oh, that’s right! I forgot how clever you are, Geralt!” Jaskier laid them out. “Perfect! We can head back, then.” Jaskier turned back and smiled at Geralt, who felt a strange... _something._ He doesn’t really have a way to explain it.

”Let’s.” Geralt stood and started heading back to the inn. The whole way, Jaskier was just staring at his ass- _fuck_. He’s going to have to come to terms with these feelings one of these days. Today, though? He’s just going to enjoy time with his family.


	8. Trying to Fix Things

Jaskier reclined himself in a chair at the bar. He had been thinking long and hard about his strange and inexplicable feelings for Geralt, and he drew one single possible conclusion- he hadn’t had sex with anyone recently. It all makes sense! His weird pining and thinking about Geralt’s attributes only occurred because he hadn’t been with a woman in some time. Geralt has long hair, women usually have long hair, Geralt has pretty eyes, women have pretty eyes, Geralt has a nice ass, so do some women! The connection should have been clear all along! Well, because of this realisation, he decided that the local bar was the best place to search for some action, and he wasn’t wrong. Countless women have taken note of him and are all working up the courage to talk to him. Only one was able to do so, though. She sidled up beside him at the bar and ordered two mugs of ale.

”Thirsty, bard?” The woman smirked at him. He felt a jolt of excitement run up his spine at the use of the nickname. That’s what Geralt likes to call him- what the hell!? No! He can’t be thinking of Geralt at a time like this! He just hasn’t flirted in a while. That’s it. The issue is only having been around Geralt before this. Yeah. That’s it.

”Mh. Positively parched, madam.” He returned her sultry glance and leaned on the bar slightly. “What’s your name? Or should I just call you mine?” He purred seductively. The woman seemed taken aback.

”Um... that’s-“

”Sorry, too forward? Shit, sorry-“ He quickly repositioned himself and cleared his throat. “My name is Jaskier. What’s yours?” The woman giggled softly and took her ale in hand as it was passed to her.

”Astreta. Nice to meet you.” She handed him the second ale she had ordered. Jaskier was relieved that he hadn’t ruined everything in his ridiculous attempt at being smooth.

”It’s good to meet you, too.” He sipped at his drink. “So, what brings you here?”

”Ah, work. Not much else could drag me into this place. It’s too loud. Too many smells.” She grumbled whilst swishing her drink in her hand. Jaskier chuckled softly.

”Reminds me of someone I know.” He joked. Fuck, now he’s thinking about Geralt again. There seems to be no end to this torment.

“Really? Who?”

”Oh, just a friend. What’s your job, by the way? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.” Astreta cocked an eyebrow at Jaskier’s question.

”Is it not blatantly obvious?”

”Um... no. Why would it be?” Jaskier seemed legitimately puzzled, and Astreta laughed in spite of herself at how dense this poor man seemed to be.

”I didn’t realize you were honestly flirting with me. I thought you were looking to purchase my services.”

”Your service- oh!” Jaskier’s confusion quickly turned to realisation and shock. “Really? Well, I’d never have guessed.”

”Well, clearly.” Astreta laughed into her glass. “Sorry if you thought I was trying to hit on you.”

”Oh, no. No, it’s fine. Actually, I wouldn’t mind, um... spending a night with you.”

“Hm. Didn’t take you for the type. Well, 40 gold, and I’m “yours” for the night.” She teased. Jaskier’s face flushed with embarrassment as he recalled his previous blunder.

”R-right, um... good then. Uh, just let me, uh... one second.” He began digging through his pockets for a bit of coin. “Ah! There we are!” He pulled out a small bag of coin, then counted out forty and handed it to Astreta. “Here you are!”

”Good thing that didn’t take too long.” She laughed a bit. “Well, lead the way to your room, then.” Jaskier nodded and stood before holding his hand out to her.

”Off we go, my fair lady.” Astreta chuckled at the bard’s antics and followed him up to the room he had rented. To say the very least about it, they had a good time.

Oh, and where are Geralt and Ciri during all of this? Well, the pair decided to venture off into the woods to hunt for food since what was being sold at the bar was too much for him to afford. They had been out for a good while and had been told by Jaskier that he was staying back so he could “scope out the area for Geralt” (find him a job). 

Well, when the pair came back with a good amount of venison in hand and saw Jaskier stumble out of a room with a beautiful woman, a few choice words were necessary. Of course, they were never said. Instead, Geralt simply glared at him and dropped a few pounds of meat into his arms. Jaskier struggled to remain upright under the weight of the venison. Fortunately, as they were walking back to Roach, Jaskier was able to explain himself. 

He told Geralt that before he had himself some “leisure time”, he had, in fact, been trying to find Geralt a job. He just didn’t find one. Geralt was obviously pleased to know that Jaskier followed through with his personally assigned “job”... but he was still angry for some reason. For what? Now that there were no problems, what would he have to be angry about? Jaskier decided to go have sex, big whoop, it happens all the time. Classic bard move. It was just some random beautiful lady that he probably had lots of fun with and wasn’t covered in scars and didn’t look and act like a monster and wasn’t a Witcher-... Geralt had to pause for a moment. He retraced his thoughts, but couldn’t for the life of him figure out why he had compared the woman Jaskier just slept with to himself. 

There was no correlation between the two of them. Geralt didn’t like thinking about it. It didn’t exactly make sense to him, but the more he thought about it, the more anxious he became. So, he decided to simply ignore the strange thought and continue being mad at Jaskier instead.

He knew it wasn’t a permanent fix, but it would at least save him a headache for the time being. He only hoped those thoughts wouldn't resurface.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! We have a Tumblr! It's run by the both of us!
> 
> http://wehyperfixatedtoohard.tumblr.com
> 
> It's about Geraskier! Our fanfiction will also be cross posted there. 
> 
> The blog will mostly be crack and head cannons!


End file.
